We met the cast of Bravo’s Top Design on Monday, and we have to say, they seem awfully chummy, which doesn’t bode well for our level of interest in the show. But we get a sneaky feeling that the characters Michael, Elizabeth, Carisa and Goil are the ones to watch, if you are interested in trying to keep up with the length of the season. (Yes. That means we have insider information. Thanks for allowing us to be subtle.)

But there is a chance this will combine our favorite things about Queer Eye (painting stripes on walls) and Project Runway (talented artists competing with each other). If it manages to skirt the pitfalls of those shows (exploiting gay stereotypes, trying to create too much personal drama), it could be a good show, that maybe we would start watching.

So we saw Spring Awakening last night. For $30, you can actually sit on the stage, in part of their mock-classroom set. For two hours, incredibly talented young actors gyrate, stomp, wail and copulate all around you. It’s basically what we imagine it’s like being an LA casting agent.

We arrived three minutes before the show started, and were berated by ushers who made us put all of our clothes in a locker, stripped us of our program (it draws focus!) and physically pushed us onto the stage. Of course, we spent the whole show worrying about our posture and attempting not to scratch ourselves.

But the show was amazing. If you are a foolish fag and haven’t seen the show, for God’s sake, go now. The music is incredible, the actors are hot, and the leading man is completely adorable. And, from what we hear, he is much less straight than the horny character he plays.

The best part of sitting on the stage was being able to watch the audience. We saw what it looked like to receive a standing ovation (unbelievable), and we witnessed individual people's reactions to things like a graphic sex scene, a bared adolescent breast, and a suicide. In the first ten minutes of the show, a boy masturbates to conclusion as the rest of the cast dances and sings around him. The look on the faces of the three old women in the front row could have made even Brent Corrigan go limp.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Thursday is Depression Screening Day here at school, and we invite all of you to come, it should be a blast. Luckily, Health Services sent out the "Too Blue" Screening Test in advance, which we just took, and passed. And by "passed" we mean we are depressed and need to go in for an additional screening. What got us this passing score, you ask? Well, the symptoms we displayed were:

Irritability

Anger

Feeling empty

Apathy/lack of feelings

The inability to experience pleasure or joy

Loss of interest in activities

Lack of motivation

Huh.

According to the above, we have been doing some investigative work to find those depressed souls around us who were not lucky enough to get the "Too Blue" test or just don't realize that they are Too Blue. This is just like the time we read about autism in Newsweek the summer after freshman year of college and then applied the test on page 34 to all our 5 year old campers. (Jack's mom, if you are reading this, it's most likely Asperger's).

Well, it turns out that ALL GAY PEOPLE are Too Blue. The law student ones are especially blue. The one sitting across from me right now is navy in fact.

"Not me," you say? Well if you have ever been to Beige, we know by the blank expression on your face that your "inability to experience pleasure or joy" outweighs any other factor. And those of you who don't go, we know that you suffer from a "loss of interest in activities" and a "lack of motivation," and are thus depressed.

Some of the people who read this blog aren’t gay (okay, one of you. Thanks, bro!). So we though it might be helpful to lay out what gay people do on their day of rest. Here is a sample schedule, which may or may not just be a list of the things that we did yesterday. For your general edification:

11:30 am: Wake up. Staying up to watch the last round of Gogo Idol at Boysroom was definitely the right decision. That’s why you’re alone in bed, with a new hangover and old underpants.

1:00 pm: Brunch with a fag hag: Nothing makes you feel better than a mimosa and the knowledge that you will never be as lonely as she is.

3:00 pm: Shopping in Nolita and Soho: So that Paul Smith shirt cost you more than three dinners. After four nights at Beige, it’ll pay for itself.

5:00 pm: Nap time: You call your parents as you are watching "Strangers with Candy." They can tell, as usual, that you are not paying attention. They tell you some horrible story about how their pipes froze last night. Funny, you think, same thing happened to me.

8:00 pm: Dinner with a friend from out of town: Surprisingly, that blogger dude you know from another city is handsome and charming. Thank goodness you chose a restaurant that is trendy and not too expensive. As opposed to your original choice, the Stagedoor Deli.

10:00 pm: Drinks at Barracuda: Cleverly, you convinced your fun new friend to come drink with you at a dodgy, empty gay bar in Chelsea. Nothing makes you feel sexy like that familiar scent of wood paneling, spilled beer, and desperation.

10:45 pm: Appearance of a minor reality star: After more friends show up, a random Texan buys you all drinks (so THAT’s why you hang out with Details models). Turns out he is best friends with one of the Queer Eyes. Awkward hellos diminished by the inexplicable appearance of many Redheaded Slut Shots.

11:30 pm: Arrival at trendy gay party of the night: Hiro is more crowded than you anticipated. Your cute out-of-town guest gets a lot of attention, including some from a well-known Falcon porn star.

11:35 pm: Yikes: Said well-known porn star takes your drink from you, finishes it, and slams it onto the floor. You laugh, because you’ve seen him penetrated by two cocks at once.

12:00 pm: Awkward ex-boyfriend encounter: You run into that gogo boy you dated, you know, the one who made fun of you for reading books? He still looks amazing, even though he has a gold chain and an inappropriate hair-to-gel ratio. He gets you free drinks, because, let’s be honest, he’s slept with all the bartenders. And to think you used to consider that cute.

1:30 pm: All of your friends want to hook up with each other: You decide it’s time to go home. You all have to work tomorrow. And you’re wearing Gap boxers, anyway. And didn’t you mean to go to bed before midnight? And why do you have all those new numbers in your phone? And who is that guy who keeps rubbing your shoulder? And do you have enough cash for the cab home? And is the snow ruining your hair? And where did everybody go??

This week's FHF comes to you from an old friend - Loudmouth. No relation.

I'm sorry, I suppose I should introduce myself. Hello, I am a fag hag. I've always been a fag hag. In fact, before I knew what a fag was I was a fag hag. I really came into my hagdom, however, when I matriculated at Yale University, a historic and prestigious institution steeped in tradition, acumen and homosexuality. It was there that I met the majority of my gays and came to appreciate the fun, friendships and security that the gay community affords.

After college, I moved to Chicago where I quickly established residency in Boys Town. A neighborhood, as you may have guessed, fraught with gay men. I was a pig in shit. When I decided to move to New York, I readied myself for the possibility that I wouldn't find a neighborhood quite like Boys Town ever again. So, you can imagine my delight when I stumbled upon an affordable apartment on west Christopher Street, an area renowned for it's colorful gay community.

But as soon as I moved in, I sensed that something was awry. The men on Christopher Street want nothing to do with me. Actually, the men on Christopher Street actively dislike me. On my walk home every night I'm forced to endure hateful verbal attacks. I've been called "preppy ass white bitch," "barbie," and "slut." Characteristics that every other gay in my life has found endearing.

Again, I ask you, what the hell is wrong with these 'mos? Don't they know a fruit fly when they see one?

The only conclusion that I can come up with is that these men are devoid of hagdar*.

Not cool, dudes.

*Hagdar, like gaydar, is the ability to correctly identify a hag in a crowd.

Last night we went to the Undergear party at T Nightclub in Times Square. When we arrived, the line stretched all the way from nearly 8th Avenue to Broadway. Luckily, we don’t believe in lines. We pulled our date, the always-dashing Andrew F., through the velvet rope.

Inside we saw Jack W., Chuck A., Sam P., and the delightful Brian U. We also saw Lance, whose last name we don’t know, and that guy who took Damon C.’s virginity and can, on command, do a front handspring step out, round-off backhandspring step-out, round-off back handspring, full-twisting layout.

Our old pal Perez H. was hosting and there was, at some point, am underwear runway show which began just as we were leaving, which was too bad because all the models we saw were incredible. And we heard from hosts that they got all of them off of Craigslist!

Our friend Andrew pulled us away to go to dinner, remarking that “I can go home and get all this on Sean Cody, in the comfort of my bedroom.” We’d agree, except after seeing these dudes, we’re totally switching allegiance. Casual Encounters, here we come!

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Chip: I am so tired of standing here at the bar waiting for someone to talk to me. If only I didn't have such sad eyes. At least that go-go lamb over there is hot.

Steve: Is he? I don't know. I've been feeling sort of ambivalent about guys lately.

Chip: What do you mean?

Steve: Well, to tell you the truth, I hooked up with this girl the other night. I was pretty drunk, but I still don't know what came over me.

Chip: Holy Shit! This happened to Bruce last month. He was dating this guy for 3 years and then, bam, said he wasn't gay anymore, so started f-ing women. Ewe, gross.

Steve: Speaking of Bruce, I haven't seen him in a while. We used to meet all the time at the doctor's office for our weekly Botox injections, but last week he just didn't show. I hope he's OK.

Chip: OMG, you guys get Botox?

Steve: Um, hello, all of us are doing it. It's the new thing. Dr. Roselli is amazing. Don't I look 10 years younger?

Chip: Not really. But I can't tell, your face is covered with grass.

Steve: Whatever, I am so over this gay scene. I'm going home to watch Sports Center. You coming?

Chip: Sports? What has gotten into you? I'd be careful of this Dr. Roselli character. He sounds like bad news.

Steve: Whatever Chip, you're just jealous of my smooth upper snout area, and you are buying into to the textbook example of the distortion and vituperation that can result when science meets the global news cycle. I'm outie.

You may have seen this Cheney appearance on The Situation Room already. It's really awkward. We're not willing to stand firmly behind Blitzer for asking about Cheney's pregnant lesbian daughter, Mary (though the obvious argument seems to be that any politician would be delighted to blab about heterosexual pregnancy rather than face a grilling over political blunders).

But we do think Cheney should be embarrassed for passing up yet ANOTHER chance to stick up for his daughter. It's hard enough being in the public eye and making a controversial decision to raise a family in a gay household. But imagine how much worse it would be if your own father refused to defend you against conservative criticism? Cheney got huffy with Wolf, but he never said he thought that Focus on the Family was wrong, or that he thought his daughter's decision was healthy and wise. What an effing coward.

Then again, why would we be surprised that the only person with a pair of balls in that family would be the dyke?

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

We just came upon a veritable goldmine of gossip. A girl in our office just admitted to us that she once dated a studly Commonwealth celebrity (not David Beckham). This brooding fashion plate (not Alexander McQueen, either), who is well known to all gays, has velvety, fair skin and lovely eyes to match. When we told her we’d made it our mission to turn him gay, she told us it wasn’t impossible – on her second date with him she’d spotted him secretively bend over and sensuously squeeze a boy’s pelvis.

We hope at least some of you saw the incredibly awesome/catchy/appalling music video "God Hates A Fag" on Gawker yesterday. The artist took it down from YouTube and his website after some universal mockery from angry/amused New Yorkers.

We failed you by not posting it. But our co-worker Hugh pointed out to us that on the group's website, there is a list of "Safe Bands" and "Gay Bands," in case fans are interested in making other faith-based musical decisions. On the "Gay Bands" list, we were somewhat surprised to see Ghostface Killah, Phish, Metallica, Eminem, Jay-Z, and DMX. (though at the end of the list, Elton John appears twice, with the caveat "very gay." We can't argue there.)

Okay, let’s be honest. You LOVED the Hardy Boys. We don’t mean the books – we mean the boys themselves, Joe and Frank. They were studly, one was blond and the other one was a brunette, and they were perpetually 17 and 18 years old. They had girlfriends (remember Iola and Cassie?) with whom they never did anything but embrace fondly. They were smart, pretty, and under their ever-present Oxfords and crewneck sweaters, you always knew they had fantastic, creamy, firm and hairless torsos. With the kind of abs a pre-adolescent like you could gnaw on like a giant ear of corn.

You don’t think the authors had dirty thoughts like that in mind, you say? Can we take a moment to look at some of the titles we were faced with back then? The Bombay Boomerang? The Sting of the Scorpion? The Masked Monkey? The Secret of the Lost Tunnel???

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

This video, forwarded to us by a tall and handsome friend, is quite long, but no doubt many of you will recognize your young selves in it. We know the child in it (who we sadly never see as an adult) bears a scary resemblance to a pre-teen Bigmouth (though, generally, all remaining videos from our childhood are movies we made with our brother in which he played a hero and we played a damsel in distress). The baseball scene is particularly poignant and damaging. Next time we see Fishwatch’s parents, we’ll be sure to ask for their old family videos. As usual, we imagine the Bollywood version is much more hilarious.

Some of you asked what our experience in Spain was like over the past few months. It's sort of hard to explain, but we just discovered this article in The Advocate, which does a decent job talking about some of the issues going on over there.

So this weekend we went to the Sundance Film Festival, which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't all that gay. But we did see stars that as a gay person, we love, like Adam Brody, Diego Luna and the flawless Scott Speedman. And we ran into such gay stars as Chad Allen, Robert Gant, Perez Hilton, and the kid from "Will and Grace" who was on this season of "24." (Okay, he may not actually be a gay person, but he is a gay celebrity) Perez was looking slimmer and we actually sort of digged his new pink hair. Chad and Robert were in the interminable line behind us as we waited to get into the Entertainment Weekly party on Saturday.

When we saw them waiting like regular people, rather than trying to pull some C-list status to cut the line, they really earned our respect. You never see that kind of behavior. Maybe, we thought, these gays were different.

Then, when we got in, the former "Queer As Folk" star took two steps into the coat check area, spotted our date, and immediately hit on him. And we remembered that, really, gays are pretty much all the same.

Monday, January 22, 2007

The Times has picked up on the attack of the Yale singing group which spawned many-a-Bigmouth boyfriend, quoting the mother of one of the boys as rightfully questioning why no arrests have been made in the homophobic attack that left her son with a broken jaw.

What's interesting about this story, as a friend of ours pointed out to us, is

...the PR, spin, etc. arising from this. Liberal left groups are up in arms about this being a "gay related hate crime," and the conservative right is on the soap boxes defending "patriots who were pummeled for singing the Star Spangled Banner." Sean Hannity of all people even offered a $10,000 reward for info leading to arrests.

For instance, as another friend pointed out, "in a story recently in the LA Times, they called it a 'schoolboy scuffle' and didn't mention even once the fact that slurs and gay-bashing were involved."

Also interesting (slash kind of hilarious) is this talk of a previous S.F.P.D. scandal known as, yes, we're serious, "Fajitagate," a "2002 incident involving three off-duty officers who were accused of accosting two men and using excessive force as they demanded that the men surrender a bag of fajitas." Apparently, the hosts of the New Year's party where the attack took place, themselves former officers of the S.F.P.D., were accused of leaking information against the department, potentially explaining why the department is being slow to respond to the attack on the singers.

But perhaps what is of most interest to us is this story shared by one other friend:

I was out at a gay bar, and I was wearing my Yale visor. Some random guy came up to me and said..."OMG, were you in the Baker's Dozen!" I said no, and he said "too bad, that would have been hot," as he rolled his eyes and walked away.

For those of you (basically everyone we know from college except us, (but not for lack of trying)) who managed to bed a BD and steal his "Spring Tour '01" or "Rush 2002" shirt in the morning, now is the time to wear it - for purposes of both supporting justice, and, more importantly, getting laid.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Um...so we just got an IM from an unknown screenname, and had the following conversation. We are not making this up.

Unknown: Heyyy SexxxxyFishwatch: Hi. Who is this?Unknown: Whaat, u don't remember the guy you f**ked last night?Unknown: Wasssup.Fishwatch: No, seriously, who is this?Unknown: Brian. Who is this?Fishwatch: [redacted]Unknown: Oh wow, srry, wrong SN.Fishwatch: No problem. We usually remember the guys we F.Unknown: LOL. asl?Fishwatch: What is asl?Unknown: age/sex/location?Fishwatch: Did you really type in a wrong screenname or are you stalking me?Fishwatch: 24/male/NYC.Unknown: haha, no your SN is close to this other guys.Fishwatch: Hmmm. And your asl?Unknown: 16/m/FLFishwatch: OMG, is this "To Catch a Predator"?Unknown: haha. No. I can send you pics if you want.Fishwatch: Bye.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

I recently broke up with my boyfriend of 4 years, and I am pretty upset. I mean, 4 years is probably not something you understand given that you are so good looking and it would be unthinkable to ask you to be tied down for so long, but, trust me, it’s a long time, and ending something like this sucks. What can I do to help myself move on?

Sincerely,Melan Choly

Dear Melan,

Our longest relationship has only been about 4 months long, which we always assumed was due to our thick emotional walls and underlying insecurities. But now that you mention it, it probably is a result of our good looks.

Anyway, a good friend of ours developed this signature 6-step plan over the course of many break ups, some small crushes gone wrong and some as serious as yours sounds, and we have found that it really does work. If it doesn’t, think of all the money you will save by wallowing in self-pity on your couch all day and night.

Janson's 6-Step "Better Than Proactiv" Process:

1. Focus on His Faults. Did he have gross toe-nails? Did he have really weird dietary restrictions? Did his slim-fit shirts get too slim-fitting? These are things to constantly think about all day long.

2. Maintain Distance. Absolutely NO late night texts or emails, and ESPECIALLY no texts or emails or voice mails after imbibing substances or watching The Notebook.

3. Surround Yourself With The Power of Friends. We recommend the long-term, caring, long discussion over red wine, good advice friends, and not the Friendsters you met at the Out 100 party last year whom you text when all your other friends are out of town. Fag Hags are especially useful at times like these.

4. Self Improvement. This involves a makeover or a new outfit, or finally getting those extensions out. Buy those skinny jeans, you deserve them.

4b. Related, Reprioritize Your Life. Putting work and your sense of decency ahead of things like taking part in Go-Go Idol at Boys Room? Putting groceries and getting rid off your credit card debt ahead of paying out of pocket for Propecia? Re-think your focus, but maybe not too hard.

5. Find Out Who His New Boyfriend Is And Convince Yourself That You Are Hotter, Skinnier, Younger, Smarter, and More Talented Than He Is. This one is pretty self-explanatory.

6. Get a New Man. Also pretty self-explanatory, but can be interpreted as going home with different boys each night for a week or so, OR forming a crush on a boy and having a project. Or both.

Also, please note that while jumping directly to step 6 without carrying out 1-5 is tempting, chances are said man will be significantly older and maybe kind of ugly, and your ex will likely find out about it, making his step 5 all that much easier. And we don’t want that.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Last night we finally got around to opening some mail from the last 2 months and came across our “2006 Annual Summary of Charges” for our trusty piece of plastic, which has every charge we ever made in 2006 separated neatly into categories. Some observations:

We can see in the “Restaurant Category” every date we went on in 2006, which was a fun, although very brief, walk down memory lane. Not so fun was seeing how many times we ordered an entire pie from Patsy’s 69th Street ($20.59) and ate it, alone, in our apartment, most likely while watching something from Netflix ($10.83/month).

We noticed that on one date back in March, we were charged the same amount twice, which seems to indicate that the waiter swiped our card twice instead of both our card and our date’s card (ladies, gay people split meals when they go out on dates, (or at least this is what the gays we go out with tell us)). This means WE paid for dinner ($40.59 + $40.59). In the end, this may be a good thing, as now we do not feel so bad for not calling said date back.

We got 11 haircuts ($32.47 – $88.76) in 2006, by 4 different institutions. One lady at one institution thinks she is our exclusive hair person.

We made 105 charges at Starbucks in 2006 for a grand total of $221.55 (105 x $2.11). These charges stopped when we discovered a new coffee place near school that charges basically double what Starbucks does ($4.00 x 16 = $64).

And finally, our internet porn charges ($[redacted]) fall under “merchandise” and not “services.” We guess this makes sense. Our co-pay at our dermatologist’s office ($35.00) falls under “miscellaneous,” and not “services.” Now this we do not understand.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

We were just emailed the transcript from TR Knight's appearance on the Ellen Degeneres Show today. As we are stuck in purgatory (O'Hare Airport), we didn't watch it, but we liked what we read. Ellen doesn't always talk about being gay, but she has come a long way from the closeted star she was nearly ten years ago. And her public relationship with Portia De Rossi has provided a good example for people learning about homosexuality. Here, Ellen asks TR about the incident in which his bigoted co-star Isaiah Washington called him a "faggot":

Ellen: And then the other night at the Golden Globes I guess Isaiah Washington starting up the whole thing up again which is kind of crazy…T.R.: Yeah, he denied that he said it (faggot)..I don’t know what to say…really about that.Ellen: I don’t either, other than it seems like at this point and time we should not say hateful words to one another and we should all learn…Ellen: I just wish you continued success and that this is out of the way and that people stop saying hateful things to one another or just using that word is dangerous.T.R.: It is and I don’t know what to say about it but it’s pretty bad..Ellen: But I’m proud of you, you’re a brave guy.T.R.: But, thanks to you.. it was ten years ago... but it just made all the difference in the world..Ellen: It was a different time and things are getting better.T.R: I was recently watching some of your interviews from that time and it was just .. It was so..I’m losing my words and I apologize it’s just very moving and it just meant so much.Ellen: Well, what you're doing is going to mean something to other people that are seeing that because you’re an amazing guy, so I’m proud of you.

Granted, TR Knight doesn't quite have the starpower or sex appeal of McDreamy or McSteamy. But he does seem like the kind of guy who would be your friend, and the kind of guy you would want to stick up for if someone called him a hateful name. Hopefully, like Ellen inspired him to be proud of who he was, maybe he one day will do the same for other young gays.

Speaking of which, you know what would really make us proud? If he stopped being such a wuss and fucked the shit out of Dr. Torres.

Everybody liked the Neverending Story. But let’s be honest, it struck a chord specifically for us gays. The main character, Bastian, was different from everyone else, an outcast who got beat up by the school bullies. He escaped into a fantasy world where he fit in, and was the hero.

That’s not to mention the fact that:

The Empress’s palace was basically the most phallic thing ever.

So, frankly, was Falcor, the Luck Dragon.

One of Atreyu’s toughest challenge was to run the gauntlet between those two hypersexualized sphinx women, who wanted to zap him with their judging eyes.

And the next one was to face himself in a mirror to admit who he really was inside.

The movie’s love interest had was a genderless pre-teen named “The Childlike Empress”

And come on, what gay man hasn’t fantasized about waking up curled up in the lap of a giant, soft white puppy?

We're sure there's more, but it's already been a long day. Anyone else remember what was so gay about this movie? The jewelry, for example?

And don't pretend you didn't have a crush on Atreyu when you were little. Some of you still do.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

As you all know, we love it when there is an intersection between "gay" and "lawyers," so the internet was highly entertaining for us today.

As you may have read here, here, here or here, a gay attorney at Sullivan & Cromwell has filed a discrimination suit agaist the firm, alleging that a partner threw a document at his feet and told him to "bend over and pick it up -- I'm sure you like that."

The complaint also alleges: "The next day, [the partner] handed a document to Plaintiff and said 'I just took a shit while reading this, and some might still be on there for you.'"

What we find really freakin' awesome is that this guy is STILL working at the firm. He has not quit or taken a leave or anything of the sort. He's just showing up in the morning with his green tea, chilling in his office, doing whatever lawyers at big firms do (bending over? playing with poop? please don't actually tell us or we might start regretting our life choices).

Anyway, we are SO mad we did not go on our callback to this firm, as, given our luck meeting high profile gays at law firms, we probably would have interviewed with said Plaintiff, be married to him by now, and thus deserving of some of that sweet settlement money coming his way.

I'm a singer and my husband is a pianist and we have an incredibly adorable3 month old who needs a great funny man to watch him when I need a nap, cooka bit for me (I KNOW you can cook honey), do some laundry, and most of all - MAKE ME LAUGH and be a friend. Why a gay man? First of all I love them, and if I meet one more Swedish girl who tells me her childhood was perfect I'll jump off of a bridge. Truth - I want my son to only love his mommy as the female in his life and not his babysitter. Isn't that awful? At least I admitted it. Anyway, please have experience with infants, CPR certified or willing to become certified, speak English very well and have great checkable references. I'm looking for someone who can help me out three days a week from about 2-6, and probably for a couple of hours on Saturdays. My husband would like to put in his fear that he does not want his son to be gay. So if you can leave the feather boa at home and act straight around the boy, great.

Quoth the funny lady who sent this to us: "If everyone were more honest about childcare needs, the world would be a better place..."

This weekend we traveled down to Washington DC with LL to visit the panoply of gays arrayed there. While we appear to have been added to some sort of TSA security watch list (our tickets now have a special code on them that appears to mean: “ANALLY PROBE THOROUGHLY”), and LL lost his driver’s license in security, we arrived in one piece and were picked up by the gallant Cub B., who was still wearing his sexy beard.

Highlights of the weekend included:

Being taken to the sex lair of FHC, which is, as you would expect, more full of antique WASP kitsch then a St. A’s basement. We suspect just as many “initiation rituals” take place there, as well.

Stopping by the Diner just long enough to tell Nick D. he is a bad person.

Ending up at Apex, where we talked to a lovely 18-year-old Australian and the LL-look-alike FHC keeps complaining about. (Someone told us not to hook up with him, even though he is a “great fuck.” Later in the night, said person made out with the look-alike.)

Getting abandoned by LL and FHC to the shirtless freshmen and “Promiscuous Girl” dance remixes at Apex.

Rescuing Cub B. from the twinks waiting in line outside of Apex, after he incited their ire by accidentally calling them “insipid” while having a private phone conversation with Kevin G. We don't blame him - who knew they would recognize that word?

A brief visit to Be Bar for a reunion of the ex-boyfriends of Alex S.

A brief, fruitless wait in the line at Cobalt, where the same obscene group of twinks again scared us to run to the safe haven of McDonalds.

Watching hundreds of leather daddies in their natural state (laced, strapped or zipped up) milling about near a hotel where there was a leather convention.

Two trips to the theater to see "Pan's Labrynth" and "Children of Men," both of which left us shaken, a bit wiser, and totally afraid of child-eating monsters with eyes in their hands.

Though we did not check off most items on our list, we were excited to spend time with our friends, re-discover some of the positive aspects of Ben T., and remind ourselves of why the DC gay terrain is treacherously incestuous. All in all, it's a great city to visit. After all, if you haven't fucked it, it's new to you!

Friday, January 12, 2007

Fridays are hard. All we do is basically wait around at our desk for the twenty productive minutes after we stop being drunk and before we start being hungover. The rest of the day, except for those twenty minutes, is pretty much lost time.

So we decided that on Fridays we would allow some of our girlfriends write posts for us on weighty gay issues of the day. Mostly, we figure, they’ll write about what they love best: queers.

So today we bring you our first official Fag Hag Friday entry, from our co-worker and great friend Patsy:

One thing I really appreciate about my best fag is his loyalty in disliking myex-boyfriends right alongside of me.

Female friends do not always do this, as female friends inherently want all men to like them. Female friends will say they hate your ex when they are talking to you, but then they will later happily accept his Friendster invitation. This sort of bff loyalty was displayed the other night when in a drunken state I somehow managed to respond to a text message from a very long ago, very maladjusted ex-boyfriend. I invited him to meet my group of similarly inebriated pals. Said ex-boyfriend approaches my best fag with the tag-line I am sure he is very used to saying given how maladjusted an individual he is, "I'm sure you really don't like me." To which my best fag smiled warmly, nodded politely and looked away.

In the morning my fag said to me, "That was confusing. I couldn't remember if I was openly hostile to that one or quietly hostile. We must keep a list."

Thursday, January 11, 2007

We just had a slightly appalling office moment. There's no divider between the two urinals in our bathroom and a co-worker, who we thankfully don't know, was using the one next to ours a few moments ago. He finished first, and though we SWEAR we were not peeking (this was an older portly man with a mustache, give us some credit), we think we saw him take the tucked-in tail of his shirt, WIPE OFF HIS PENIS, and then tuck the whole shebang back in his pants.

Is this accepted practice?? We've seen (out of the corner of our eyes!) all kinds of weird Shake It Out routines. There's the tug-a-tug-tug, the gentle repeated pull, the whaparound. The list goes on and on. But the shirtwipe? We nearly perished.

In an exciting turn of events, we will be leaving NYC tomorrow to go down to Washington, DC. We will be impinging on the hospitality of the gorgeous Cub B, the sexy Thomas B, the exy Alex S, and of course FHC.

We made an official list of activities in which we would like to indulge, including visiting the New York Streets exhibit at the National Gallery, and the National Building Museum. But here is our unofficial list of important Washington sights we would like to see:

Be Bar - We know nothing about it but we hear it's new. Maybe there won't be the same eight guys in pastel polos at THIS one!

We have been thinking a lot lately about our childhood, and everything that was gay about it. From the earliest we could remember, we had gay impulses. We were fascinated by the Greek sculpture series in our National Geographic. We weren’t interested in the Playboy that our friends found on the playground in third grade. And we really, really liked going to the public pool… locker room. When we were eight.

But let’s be honest, there were subtle exterior forces, assaulting us constantly, reinforcing our gayness. We decided this might be a nice regular feature on the FAGAT Guide – exploring those things in our childhoods that made us as gay, gay, gay as we are today.

We thought we’d start with one of our favorite picture books, Maurice Sendak’s “In The Night Kitchen.” Remember it? It’s the charming tale of rascally Mike, who floats from his room into the Night Kitchen and ends up on a plane made out of dough with a pot on his head. It was like an episode of Dr. Who with better special effects.

This book, while seemingly innocent and fun, was THE GAYEST THING EVER. The little boy, Mike, is naked from almost the first page, and spends much of the book frolicking around a giant phallic milk bottle. We had no chance with this book – it even showed his little boy acorn penis! (this was okay because we were little boys with acorn penises at the time). And come on, "I'm in the milk and the milk's in me"? Sean Cody wishes he had writing like that.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

We apologize for two Yale posts in one week, but this is worth noting. If you read Towleroad you no doubt know about the Yale a cappella gay bashing. It’s very strange for us to write about, partially because two members of that a cappella group (in previous years) were longterm boyfriends of ours. Many other members of the group were our close friends (and not all of them, by far, are or were even gay).

Apparently the group and their alumni are putting a lot of pressure on San Francisco authorities to prosecute the kids to the full extent of the law, though those authorities are dragging their feet. The group continued on their winter tour without the most seriously injured kid, and are trying to stay positive about it (we imagine with the usual help of buckets and buckets of Natty Ice).

What’s funny about this, if there is anything funny at all, is that we always thought of the Baker’s Dozen was the STRAIGHT Yale a cappella group. But in retrospect, the idea of a straight Yale a cappella group is pretty hilarious.

Like many of you, probably, we sat down to watch "Gay, Straight or Taken?" last night. We're not sure we'd do it again, but like sex with a woman, we thought it was best to wince through it at least once to see what it was like. In case you missed it, Slate has a good little wrap-up.

Our overall impression was that it was less offensive than it could have been. Yes, it trotted out stereotypes, but has anyone seen "Will & Grace" or "Queer Eye" lately? The only bit that annoyed us, really, was when the girls in both episodes apologized to the boys who they had wrongly assumed where gay. Somehow we're not sure "I'm sorry for thinking you were Jewish" would have made it past the editors. Oh, and we wanted to ax murder the dude pictured above.

But the girls largely avoided putting their feet in their mouths, which surprised and impressed us. We loved it when Jenner, the first contestant, was so appalled by one of her suitor's teeny boxcut swimtrunks that she murmured, "I thought he must be the gay one when I saw his...swimming...underpants." We will definitely be using the phrase "swimming underpants" this summer at Fire Island, and are considering lobbying to change the name of "GayzOfOurLives" to "The Swimming Underpants Blog."

We think the best part of the episodes are when the boyfriend and girlfriend of the Gay and Taken boys show up. Especially since in the second episode, an extremely hot (or at least well put-together) guy turned out to have a completely busted girlfriend, and it visibly threw everyone on camera off guard.

But, of course, the best parts of the experience in general were the relentless ads for the Lifetime Original Movie "To Be Fat Like Me," which were blatantly targeted at the homo audience watching "GSoT." Lifetime execs must have realized, too late, that no overweight housewife wants to watch a movie about a skinny pretty girl pretending to be fat, feeling bad, and then going back to being skinny and pretty again. Thank God the gays, who are the only other demographic to watch Lifetime, eat that shit UP.

Monday, January 08, 2007

We probably should have posted this yesterday, but we were the last gays in America to see Dreamgirls and it basically took up all of our day (and a fifth of Johnny Red). Sorry about that.

By now you all have probably read this article in the New York Times about naked parties at Yale. If you haven't, we imagine that it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it was hidden in a section called "Educational Life" that had a bunch Asian people on the cover. Anyway, since both FAGAT Guide writers attended Yale and also some (okay, many) naked parties, we thought it was worthy of comment.

The article is accurate when it says the parties are not bacchanals. No sex went on at any party we ever saw.

Sure, Fishwatch went to many gay parties mostly to ogle a particularly beautiful boy (who is now engaged to a very beautiful girlfriend of ours). And, fine, perhaps Bigmouth got riled up enough to deflower an underclassman immediately following one such evening. But really, for the most part, no sex.

How can that be, you wonder? Just imagine being in a room full of all of the people at your high school who had the time to study enough to be at the top of their class. You know, the people who weren't too busy with sports, extracurriculars, significant others, hobbies or friends? Now imagine those people naked.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

We are back from the South, and overall, it was a mind-numbingly relaxing time. While we were there, only two people tried to set us up with their daughters. (In the straight world, apparently "Law School" gets you points).

"He's taken," our mother told them, which we would love to be true, but last we checked, it's not. While our mother has gone to PFLAG meetings and brings up Nate Berkus whenever an opportunity to do so comes up, she apparently isn't ready to tell the 51-62 year old Indians of North Carolina about her son's interest in c*ck and bum fun. Some of you may find that this directly contradicts with the fact that she still brags about our a cappella and musical theater triumphs of the early 2000s, but we don't think the Indians below the Mason-Dixon line quite see it that way just yet.

Regardless, it reminded us of the layers of shame that linger with parents long after the coming out discussion, especially in some immigrant and minority communities where people assume the gays just don't exist. We can't blame our parents for this -- not only are they are the new kids on the block in a more conservative place, but they are also the product of their upbringing, which involved strict adherence to social and cultural norms. That being said, the friends of our parents who do know that we kiss boys and not girls don't seem to give two shits (one even tried to set us up with a boy (use accent here) "from a very good family"). We decided early on to leave it entirely to our folks to tell who they want when they want among their friends, which we think was the right decision, but one that sometimes leaves us conflicted when _____ auntie and ______ uncle still ask us about girls and we do that evasive thing you all mastered at some point in your life.

In other news, we really love being abnormally small and manorexic because this means that after you fatties are done buying up premium denim at Barneys Coop, the size 28s and 29s that are left over are sold for 1/3 the price, at which point we swoop in and buy multiple pairs. (For any other our-size barbies out there, we are talking $59, so go NOW).

Friday, January 05, 2007

We don't yet have an opinion on this UK study about turning gay sheep into straight sheep. But we do think it's hilarious that some writer got Martina Navratilova, lesbian and science expert, to defend the "right" of a sheep to be gay.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

We’re sorry we haven’t posted today, but we spent seven hours today on the Greyhound from the North Country to New York. Of course we brought our flask, which resulted in exactly the effect we wanted – arriving in our home city, slightly drunk, at sunset. In fact, as we type, we are on our laptop passing that random high net beside I-95 in the Bronx, which is either a driving range or a batting cage. We’d probably be able to tell if we cared about sports.

It’s a funny thing, returning to New York, if you’re not from here. We’ve lived in this city for nearly four years, but we will never get over the cheesy small-town excitement that comes with seeing the New York skyline as it slips into the view from the train, bus, or car.

When we were living in Spain, everyone we met was fascinated that we lived in New York. They had a million questions. “Have you met Robert De Niro?” they would ask. “Were you there when the towers fell?” “It must seem normal for you,” they’d say. But it doesn’t.

Right now the New York skyline is burning with the orange of the setting sun. We just looked back on the bus, and everyone is gaping out of the window toward the island of Manhattan. Every time we go through this, it’s the same. We can hardly believe it - we’re home.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

A faithful and sexy Fagats reader sends in this interesting update. His family received an annual Christmas card from New York Court of Appeals Judge Bob Smith. You may remember him for writing the convoluted and nonsensical court decision last year blocking equal marriage rights in New York.This is the last sentence of his Christmas mailing:

"As many of you know, I got my fifteen minutes of fame this year, by writing an opinion holding that there is no constitutional right to same sex marriage in New York. Many of my friends and family weredispleased with this, and no doubt most of you are too, but be forgiving. It's Christmas, or it just was. We hope that yours was merry and your new year is the same. Bob"

Oh NO. Are Bob's Upper West Side friends turning against him? Was he not invited to the same table as everyone else this holiday season? Did he get left out of all the tradition and joy?

So although we are back in the United States, we have yet to make our grand entrance back into the social scene in New York. We’ve been up in the North Country visiting our parents since last week, and will only arrive in the city on Thursday. Which means our return will require careful planning. At which gay party should we make our first grand appearance?

Here are our options (from what we recall):

Thursday: Duvet. We think. This party was dying the last time we were in the city, but gay parties, like pimples in the cartilage under the bridge of your nose, take forever to actually go away.Friday: Opaline. Every time we go to this party we get super drunk in advance because it’s expensive and the drinks are shitty. At the end of the night, we think we’ve had a great time. Then, in the morning, we find all the new names in our cellphone and remember that tragic moment when we were on the box with the 16-year-old from Hoboken. Oh God, everyone saw.Saturday: Mr. Black. We’ve never been to Mr. Black but we hear it’s appropriately popular and appalling. This may be a good idea as we finally have an excuse as to why we haven’t attended a cool gay party. We were in EUROPE people! That ought to impress all the waiters and hairdressers.Sunday: Hiro. Last time we went to this party we ended up dancing around at 3 am in an efficiency suite in the Gansevoort hotel swigging from an open bottle of Level Vodka, sandwiched between two naked Australians. They never called.Monday: Don’t be stupid.Tuesday: La Beige. Honestly, this is probably the best choice. The club where the sacred gay tradition of “The Lap” around the bar was invented, Beige is always guaranteed to have at least two dozen people you went to college with, work with, and have slept with. And you never have to talk to one person for more than 89 seconds.Wednesday: Phoenix. If we’re feeling like unwashed geriatric man balls by Wednesday, we’ll see you there. Otherwise, meet us at Beige.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

So today is a big day for same-sex marriage proponents in Massachusetts. The legislature may decide whether to put forward an amendment banning the right, which would mean that there would have to be a vote by the people. This Boston Globe article explains it pretty well, but as we were reading, we noticed a confusing anecdote about the protesters outside the state house:

"In a display of the emotions, one of the amendment's backers yelled across the street at a person with a sign reading, 'Start Acting Like Christians.' The amendment proponent said, 'We are Christians, just like you.'"

So… From what we can decipher, apparently a gay protester had a sign telling a straight protester to act like a Christian. The straight protester, on the defensive, claimed he was just as Christian as the gay one. Seems a little turned around, doesn’t it?

This strikes right to the core of a big problem, as we see it. These people have been debating about the Christian morality of the issue for so long that everything’s become jumbled. Except, the Christian morality of the issue shouldn’t be what we’re fighting about. A) This isn’t a country of all Christians any more, and B) the Constitution’s writers excluded any and all churches for this specific reason – so that hundreds of years later we wouldn’t be debating about what position is more Christian. Or Jewish, or Muslim for that matter.

Though, to be fair, this debate may indeed apply in Massachusetts, which is about as culturally diverse as the first season of “Friends.” Could it BE any WASPier?

Monday, January 01, 2007

You may have noticed a slight change in the layout of the Fagat Guide today. We are testing out some new ideas for the new year. We are aware, however, that not all change is good, so please let us know what you think.

We just looked over last year's Fagat Guide New Year's Resolution List and most of it still stands (specifically, see the item about sassy overweight black women from American Idol). But a new year brings new ideas, dreams and hopes that one day someone might actually take our advice. So here goes - our 2007 New Year's Resolutions for the gays:

1) Stop renting those horrible gay movies that you see in Blockbuster wedged between real movies that actual people rent. The softcore sex scenes aren’t worth it, and the dialogue is actually making us collectively stupider as a genre of humanity.2) This includes taking them off of your Netflix queue, jackasses.3) One of us needs to take one for the team and give the twinky guy in the Mac commercials the rigorous buttfucking for which he is so obviously screaming. (This is more of a suggestion than a resolution.)4) Be more confident. Ever wonder why it is that only hot guys, and weird, old ugly guys meet people at bars? It’s because the rest of us are sitting there sucking down our vodka sodas and waiting for something to happen. We might as well give each other handjobs while we wait.5) Stop trying to convince ourselves that one of the shoddy Rite Aid brand hair products will magically make your hair look like Josh Duhamel’s. Get a real product and stick with it, or accept your Jew fro the way it is. This will make life better for all of us.6) Finally stop thinking that your heterosexual guy friends hit on you when they’re drunk. They don’t, they’re just drunk… (BrokeStraightBoys.com is a WEBSITE, not a way of life.)7) Invent an absorbent, trendy, attractive reusable cumrag. We’re a little too old to still be using socks and undershirts, aren’t we?8) Stop shopping at Ikea for large pieces of furniture. It’s getting really embarrassing that you all have the same Malm coffee table that we do.9) Figure out a polite way to say, “I’ll cum a lot faster with a dick in me.” This only applies to about half of you.10) For the other half, figure out a polite way to say, “stop trying to finger my asshole, this is only making everything slower.”11) And on a related note, let’s all make sure the nails on our index and middle fingers are always smooth and cut very short. Just in case.12) Find a new trendy dog. Contrary to popular belief, puppies are not like messenger bags. And even if they were, would we all wear the same petite, wrinkled, black-and-white-spotted messenger bag for 12 years?13) Finally admit to ourselves that shower blowjobs have a lower success ratio than Sean Cody would lead us to believe.14) For God’s sake, stop reading Queerty.com. See resolution #1.15) Decide that this is the year we won’t live from paycheck to paycheck. We imagine this can be achieved by trying to devote the same amount of attention to the level of our savings accounts that we do to the level of our ambient body hair.16) Finally devise a strategy for what to do with that one arm which never quite fits anywhere comfortably when we are spooning, and ends up falling asleep and being useless for the first 15 minutes of the morning.17) Assign one of our own to take charge of Britney Spears. She needs a big fag up in her business like Ryan Seacrest needs… a big fag up in his business.18) Oh yeah, and while we’re solving our problems? Two words: ass deodorant. Someone figure it out.